Skeleton Tree

by Kim Ventrella

  “What are you doing?! Stanly?”

  Princy sank into a heap on the ground, clutching his ribs.

  “You hurt him.” Miren’s voice had gone all quiet and breathy, like someone had stolen all the air from her chest. “That’s not nice, Stanly!”

  Princy clawed his way toward the window, shaking. Like an injured animal trying to get away from a lion.

  Stanly grabbed for his ankle, but Miren stopped him cold. “Leave him alone, you big bully!” Her voice was icy and desperate, like Princy being hurt was the worst thing in the world.

  Miren scrambled off the bed and pounded Stanly’s chest. Stanly had to work fast to catch the tank so she wouldn’t pull the tubes out of her nose. She pounded and pounded, her tiny fists so weak it was like they were made of paper. After a few seconds, she ran out of energy and her hands drooped by her sides. She gathered up Princy’s broken bones, tears oozing down her cheeks.

  “Stay still, Princy. I’ll put them back on. You go away.” She turned and glared at Stanly. He’d never seen that look on her face before, like she didn’t even recognize him.

  Princy sat up, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Miren tried to fit the ribs back into place, but they kept falling off.

  “Look what you’ve done.” The tears dribbled into Miren’s mouth, making her choke. “You have to make them stay.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, crouching down next to her. “Princy is bad. He’s the one making you sick.”

  Miren swallowed her tears and blinked up at him. “No, Stanly. Is that what you think?” She wiped her face with the hem of her dress. “He’s my friend. My best friend. He makes me feel better, not sick.”

  Princy did always make Miren laugh, but that didn’t change what Jaxon had read in that book.

  “I heard you talking to him the other night.” He smoothed down her crinkly hair, but she shrugged away from him. “Didn’t I? What did he say to you?”

  “He told me that if I feel bad, I have to think of something funny. Like a duck with floppy feet or a pig doing cartwheels. Then I won’t hurt so much.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “Yes, that’s all he said.” Miren’s eyes pleaded with him. “You have to help me put him back together, Stanly. You have to.”

  Thoughts whizzed around Stanly’s brain like angry wasps, their stick legs pricking the inside of his skull. He didn’t know what to think anymore, but he knew one thing. He couldn’t stand the way Miren was looking at him. Like he was a monster instead of her big brother. He never wanted her to look at him that way again.

  “Fine, but you have to promise me something.” He turned to face Princy. “You have to promise never to hurt my little sister. Not ever. Understand?”

  Princy nodded. Stanly looked into his black eye sockets. Somehow they didn’t look as deep or scary as before. Not at all like the picture in Jaxon’s stupid book.

  “You heard him, he promises,” Miren said. “He’s going to be a good skeleton.”

  “Why doesn’t he tell me himself?”

  “He did, dummy. Didn’t you hear?”

  Stanly didn’t hear anything. Princy buried his head in his hands, like he was crying, too.

  “Help him, Stanly. Please, he said he’d be good.”

  Stanly let out a deep-down sigh. “All right, hold on, let me get some glue.”

  Stanly dragged his dad’s toolbox out from under his bed and fished around for some superglue. He found one tube that had dried up long ago, and another that had never been opened. He took that one with him and used it to glue Princy’s three broken ribs back in place. The skeleton winced each time Stanly touched him.

  “There you go, Mir-Bear. All better.”

  Miren hugged Stanly’s chest.

  “I want to see Princy spin the ball some more.”

  “Okay, but just for a little while.”

  Princy stood up and balanced the ball on the tip of his finger. He spun and spun, so fast the colors all blurred and became one moving rainbow. Princy seemed a little shaky at first, but after a while he started to bob his head and jiggle his toes. Tinkling music floated up from the floorboards. The tune was sad and happy at the same time. Soon, Princy started spinning right along with the ball.

  He spun so fast Stanly couldn’t see his bones anymore, just a whizzing tornado of color and motion and sound.

  Mom came home a little later. At the sound of the front door opening, Princy gave the ball one final spin and then disappeared in a puff of pink smoke.

  Miren stood on her bed and clapped. Stanly blinked, to see if Princy might be hiding behind the smoke. But even after it cleared, there was no sign of him. “He’ll be back,” Stanly said, patting Miren’s shoulder. Whether Stanly wanted him back or not.

  Stanly helped Miren into the living room. Her bare feet slapped the tile, and she bounced up and down when she walked.

  “Put it down,” she said. “I can push the tank by myself.”

  Miren greeted Mom at the door. “Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”

  In answer, Miren wheeled around and got tangled in her tubes.

  “What’s gotten into her?” Mom said. She sounded like she hadn’t slept in weeks, and her jawbones stuck out more than ever.

  “What happened, Mom?”

  “Nothing, it’s just been a long day.”

  She took off her jacket and hung it on the coat stand next to Ms. Francine’s sweater. Only the coat stand wasn’t there anymore. In its place stood Princy. Mom dropped the jacket onto his outstretched fingers without taking so much as a second glance in his direction.

  Miren saw Princy, too. She pointed and giggled so hard she started to wheeze.

  “What is up with you today?” Mom said. “Stanly, help me get her into bed. I think she’s had enough excitement for one morning.”

  “You sure everything’s okay?” Stanly said. Mom never came home from work this early, after only a few hours.

  “I’m sure.” She tugged at her frayed Walgreens vest. “Can you put your sister to bed? I need to get these clothes off. And I need to make some calls.”

  “Yeah, Mom. I got it.”

  Ms. Francine helped Stanly talk Miren into taking a nap. They read her a story, with Ms. Francine doing the wolf voice and Stanly playing the pigs. Ms. Francine did an amazing wolf. Then Stanly turned on Miren’s favorite night-light, the one that made the walls look like rolling waves.

  “Goodnight, Mir-Bear.”

  “Sleep tight, little one.”

  Stanly went into the kitchen and chopped cucumbers for Ms. Francine’s rusalka salad. He didn’t believe Mom when she said everything was okay, but he didn’t know what else to do about it. He wondered if Dad was one of the people she was calling, but he decided not to ask. Asking wouldn’t make him call back any faster.

  “Do you know this word, ‘rusalka’?” Ms. Francine said. She stirred the pot of borsch, the steam curling her bushy eyebrows.

  “No, does it mean cucumber?”

  Ms. Francine laughed. “Most people think the rusalka is a mermaid, but they’re wrong.” She stopped stirring and tapped the side of her nose. “The rusalka is a spirit that haunts a river or a stream. Maybe a pond, who knows? She waits for young men to pass by, and then she lures them into the water.”

  “Why?”

  “What do I know?” She swatted her hands at Stanly. “I’m not a ghost. If you find one, go and ask her.”

  Now Stanly laughed. As he chopped more cucumbers, he peered through the window that looked into the living room, and past that to the entryway. Princy was gone, replaced by the regular wooden coat stand.

  “Do you think Princy’s a ghost?” Stanly whispered.

  “Princy? Who is this Princy? What a funny name for a skeleton.”

  “Shh! Don’t talk so loud.”

  “What? No one is listening.” She smoothed her eyebrows back into straight lines. “The skeleton is not a ghost. This I know. He is more like … ” She thought about it for a long
time, stirring the bubbling soup. “Like an angel.”

  Mom padded into the kitchen, wearing sweats and flip-flops.

  “Can I help with anything?” She rubbed the black bags under her eyes.

  “You go rest. Stanly and I will finish up the borsch and put a batch of borsok in the oven. Won’t we?”

  Stanly shrugged.

  “So modest. For such a little boy, he’s a big help. You raise a good son with this one, Momma. Now go, get out of here, you lie down and we’ll let you know when borsok is ready. And tea?”

  “Tea would be nice.” Mom tugged her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, Ms. Francine.”

  “You haven’t gotten rid of me yet.”

  Mom tried to smile. “I think I’ll go lie down. Wake me up if you need me.”

  Stanly rolled dough into balls and even managed to snarf a few spoonfuls of Ms. Francine’s special hazelnut filling when she wasn’t looking.

  “Good thing I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,” Ms. Francine said as Stanly gulped his third scoop of filling. She was facing the stove, so there was no way she could have seen him.

  “Yeah, good thing,” Stanly choked.

  Ms. Francine boiled tea, and Stanly went to wake up Miren. He didn’t find Princy anywhere in her room, but he did hear something moving around in the air vent that sounded suspiciously like clinking bones.

  Stanly shivered. He didn’t know if Princy was an angel or what, but that skeleton sure knew how to give someone the heebie-jeebies.

  Thirty minutes later, Mom, Stanly, Miren, and Ms. Francine sat around the dining table eating crispy borsok and blowing on their tea.

  “Miren has a doctor’s appointment at three. Do you want to come with us, Stanly?”

  “Yeah, I can help with her tank,” he said. “Is that why you came home from work so early?”

  Miren coughed into her cup. Mom patted her shoulder and held back her hair, but the coughing lasted a long time. When she finally stopped, Miren looked thin and pale, like the coughing had zapped all of her energy.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” Mom said. She kissed Miren’s ear and nose and forehead.

  Miren scrunched up her mouth and moaned. Stanly had never heard her make that sound before. She grasped her chest, and silent tears dribbled down her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong, baby? Is it your chest?” Mom pulled Miren onto her lap. Miren sucked in a sharp breath, like it hurt when Mom touched her. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. Ms. Francine, can you call Dr. Cynthia? Her number’s on the fridge, ask if we can come early.”

  “Yes, don’t worry, I call.”

  Miren cried into Mom’s sweatshirt. Stanly went to her bedroom and got her glow wand and some of her other toys. Nothing cheered her up. He even tried to juggle rubber balls, like he’d seen Princy do, but they just bounced on the table and splattered Mom’s tea.

  “Stop it, Stanly! Can’t you just sit still and stop causing trouble?” Mom started to breathe fast, like Miren. “I’m sorry, look, please go to Miren’s room and pack her a bag. One set of clothes, a blanket, and some of her toys. Can you do that?”

  “Do you think she’s going to have to stay in the hospital again?”

  “I don’t know. Just do it, Stanly.”

  Stanly packed the bag. When he came back into the dining room, Miren was laughing. Stanly couldn’t tell why at first, but then he looked out the window and saw Princy doing cartwheels in the yard.

  Miren gazed over Mom’s shoulder, clapping and chanting, “Go, Princy, go!”

  Mom turned around and shook her head. “Who is Princy? What are you laughing at?” She tickled Miren’s tummy, and Miren doubled over in giggles.

  Princy did the Running Man and the Robot and a bunch of other dance moves Stanly didn’t know the names for.

  “It’s okay to go in early,” said Ms. Francine. “What should I tell this Dr. Cynthia?”

  Miren bounced in Mom’s lap, the tears forgotten.

  “Maybe we’ll just go in at three, like we’d planned. What do you think, baby? Do you feel better now?”

  “I feel better, Mom. Can we go play outside?”

  They all went into the backyard. Stanly danced around, trying to mimic some of Princy’s moves, while Mom held Miren in her lap. No matter how much Princy swayed and waved and jiggled, Mom never once looked in his direction.

  Like, to her, he didn’t even exist.

  Later, at the doctor’s office, Stanly watched Mom’s purse while she took Miren into the back to meet with Dr. Cynthia. Her phone kept buzzing.

  Some of the messages were from Aunt Joan, Mom’s sister. “You know we’re always here for you,” and, “If you need help, just let us know.”

  The phone rang again. The caller ID said Morris. Stanly flipped open the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, kiddo, it’s you. Hey, I heard about your mom’s job. Real bummer. Do you think I could talk to her for a sec?”

  “What about her job?”

  Silence on the other end. Uncle Morris sighed. “Here I go again. Foot in mouth syndrome. Oh well, might as well tell you. Your mom lost her job, buddy. But no worries, okay? Uncle Morris to the rescue. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but how would you feel about moving to Florida?”

  “Moving to what?” Water crept up the back of Stanly’s throat, like he’d swallowed an entire ocean.

  “Florida, dumb-dumb. Land of a thousand beaches. Sun and surf and all that. Look, is your mom there?”

  “She’s busy.” Inside, he choked and gagged and flailed just to stay afloat, but outside his skin had gone numb.

  Stanly hung up the phone and switched it to silent.

  Stanly had just slipped Mom’s phone back into her purse when Dr. Cynthia came out of her office and walked straight up to him. He’d always liked how Dr. Cynthia’s hair twisted into dreadlocks on top of her head, but not today. She had a weird expression on her face, the way people look when they’re pretending to be happy.

  “Hello, Stanly. Sorry you’ve been waiting out here this whole time.” She placed a hand on his knee, but he pulled away. “Why don’t you come into my office so we can talk.”

  She held open the door and waited. Stanly didn’t move. He’d seen enough TV shows to know what would happen next.

  “Take your time,” said Dr. Cynthia, her fake smile faltering. “Your mom and I will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

  He watched Dr. Cynthia leave. Why didn’t Mom come out and get him herself? He settled into his chair, not planning to go anywhere, but another thought occurred to him. If he didn’t go, Mom would have to listen to the bad news alone.

  Mom could do a lot of things on her own, but he didn’t want her to have to do that.

  Stanly stepped into Dr. Cynthia’s office. It smelled like flowers, and a dumb stuffed hippo sat on the shelf behind the desk.

  “Say hello to Dr. Hip,” Dr. Cynthia said. “He keeps the place running when I’m gone.” Stanly didn’t laugh or say hello, and neither did Mom.

  Instead, Mom took his hand and guided him into the seat next to her.

  “This won’t take long. Dr. Cynthia just wants to explain some more about Miren’s condition,” Mom said through tight lips.

  Stanly squeezed her hand while Dr. Cynthia told them about fluid and lung function and something called valves. He didn’t understand most of what she was saying.

  She was still in the middle of talking when Stanly burst out, “Hey, where’s Miren? Why isn’t she here?”

  Mom’s fingernails dug into his palm.

  “She’s going to stay with us tonight, in a room just on the other side of this building.” Dr. Cynthia told him all about the room and the nurses who were going to keep Miren safe. “You can help, too, Stanly.” She looked right in Stanly’s eyes, but he blinked and looked away. “She’s going to be in a lot of pain.”

  He stopped breathing, like someone had plugged up the back of his throat. Mom gripped his h
and so hard it hurt. “What can I do to help?” he said.

  “Just be with her. Sit by her side, read to her. You’ll know what to do.” Dr. Cynthia found Stanly’s eyes again. “Stanly, your sister’s condition is very serious. I need you to start thinking … ” She took a deep breath and started again. “You should know that your sister doesn’t have much time.”

  “That’s enough,” Mom said in an ice-cold voice. “He doesn’t need to hear this.” She shot out of her chair and yanked Stanly’s hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “It’s never easy to hear, but things are progressing quickly, Ms. Stanwright. The sooner you accept what’s happening, the better equipped you’ll be to say goodbye when the time comes.”

  “Shut up!” Mom spun around and then froze. Her eyes opened wide, like she was shocked at her own words. She dropped Stanly’s hand and rushed out of the office.

  Stanly wanted to go with her—he wanted to run and run and never stop running—but instead he turned back. Even though it hurt just to open his mouth, he had to ask Dr. Cynthia about Princy. He had to know if something like that could really make someone sick, but the words that tumbled out of his mouth like rotten teeth were, “How long does she have?”

  Dr. Cynthia considered her words. “There’s never any way to tell, exactly.” She rubbed her temple. “If I had to guess, I’d say a few months. But it could be weeks.”

  As they walked across the building to Miren’s new room, Mom jammed her headphones into her ears, and Stanly heard the echo of a robotic voice explaining how to get tangles out of dog hair. He had so many questions, but there was no point in asking. Mom wouldn’t be able to hear him, and besides, he was pretty sure he needed to throw up.

  Miren was in a room with purple curtains and a scratched white floor. She seemed so small and fragile in the big bed, it hurt Stanly’s eyes to look at her.

  “We should call Dad,” Stanly said, reaching for the phone on the bedside table.

  Mom squeezed her hand over his. “Not now.”

  “You heard what Dr. Cynthia said.”

  She shook her head and her lips twitched, like she was trying and failing to make them smile. “I don’t want to worry him over nothing. Miren will be better soon, you watch. What we need is a second opinion.”